


Say Please

by K_iddo



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alexandria Safe-Zone (Walking Dead), Couch Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Negan Does As He's Told For Once, Season/Series 10, Slight Canon Divergences, Smut, Touch-Starved, VERY light dumb/sub undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21993562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_iddo/pseuds/K_iddo
Summary: I’d seen him around plenty, been told to keep my distance, to ignore him if he throws any jokes my way, but I don’t ever react well to being told what to do.I cling to things that remind me of the time before wherever I can, and already he feels like one of those things. In my mind’s eye, I can see myself in my mid-twenties, going to a dive bar and picking up someone a little older, a little rough around the edges, drinking straight whiskey and eyeing me in the summer dress I’d pick to catch the attention of a man like that.
Relationships: Negan (Walking Dead)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 73





	Say Please

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like sometimes Negan just needs someone to tell him what to do, honestly.

I can pretend everything is normal in these moments, standing on my porch in the evening with a beer watching people walk by; a couple of kids playing, folks on their way home from a long day of work, sleepy but content. Alexandria isn’t perfect, but it might be the closest we’re going to get for a while - running water and electricity still feels like a goddamn dream come true. My feet ache from a day of patrolling, so I lean on my elbows on the railing to take the weight off them some. I’m looking forward to having the house to myself, my three roommates are on night watch this particular evening. It’s rare, but I enjoy it when it comes around, having lived alone before all this and been perfectly happy that way.

It’s when I take a deep sip from my can that I see him, taking off his hat to run a hand through his freshly regrown hair, forehead sweaty and pace slow. I’d heard all kinds of stories about Negan, but had arrived far too late to the township to have seen him at his worst firsthand. There’s a confidence in the way he walks that tells me he’s not always been some farmer taking orders from the boss and getting dirty looks at every turn, but it’s hard to believe sometimes, the evil I’ve heard that he was. I just see him pushing around a wheelbarrow, picking tomatoes, repairing the fence.

He must sense me looking at him, because he meets my eye when he passes, and flashes me a broad smile and a nod. Okay, maybe I can believe it, that little glint in his eye might not be evil but it’s definitely not a million miles off. His teeth are some of the nicest I’ve seen since end of days too, it makes me suck on mine and wonder how good they look in comparison. The type of man my nana would have told me to stay away from back in the day, too good looking to be good news.

“You look like a man who needs a beer.” I call to him, not really thinking before I say it. Maybe it’s how pleasant the evening is, maybe it’s just been too long since I had the company of such a handsome man, but it’s a compulsion I follow. 

He looks up and down the street, a little theatrically, as if searching for who else I must be talking to. 

“Me?” Negan gestures to himself, eyebrows raised. 

“Yeah, you.” I feel myself smirking a bit. He glances around again, scratching the back of his neck like he’s not sure if this is okay. “Outside your curfew?” I tease. 

Negan laughs a bit and shakes his head, before moseying up the path towards me. 

“Don’t have a curfew anymore. Got a room of my very own too, no bars or nothin’.” He walks up the porch steps so casually, lazy in his movements, and leans on the post beside me. 

We haven’t really met before, I brought him dinner once, when he had been down in is cell, but he had been sleeping and I’d had to tell someone else to bring it later. I can remember seeing him lying on his cot with an arm over his eyes, a little more solidly built than he is now, and being kind of disappointed I hadn’t had the chance to say hello or something comforting, I’d felt sorry for him. He’s an intriguing guy, even if the intrigue is born out of a terrible reputation. 

Terrible reputations have always kind of made my skin tingle, to be honest, but no one in Alexandria knows me well enough to be aware of that yet, not even my roommates, who I’m pretty close to. 

“Well, look at you.” I go to the bench where the cold six pack sits and hand one to him. “No chaperone, either, like a big boy.” 

His chuckle is low and rough, and it rolls through me pleasantly. 

God, he is _exactly_ what I’d have gone for before all this, masculine in all those stereotypical ways I wish I was above being into but that I totally, completely am. His fingertips brush my knuckles when I hand him the can, and I’m sure he’s done it on purpose; Negan strikes me as the kind of man that is totally aware that he’s attractive, and that it might have something to do with why he’s up here with me. 

“Well I’ve proved myself, shown I’m willing to stand knee deep in mud and shit all day to keep this place fed.” He takes a big drink of his beer, and wipes the suds it leaves in his beard with the back of his hand. “Shit, that is good.”

Negan has definitely lost some weight since he got here, but he hasn’t lost his presence. With his shirtsleeves rolled to his elbows, I can see the veins in his arms against tattooed skin, and I think about that bat I’ve heard people talking about that he always used to have with him, and wha the would do with it. He must be strong. 

"We haven’t met before, have we?” He asks, breaking me off from assessing him. 

“No, not directly.” I say.

“ _Not directly_ …” He repeats and clicks his tongue thoughtfully. “What exactly does that mean?” 

“Means we haven’t met but I know your name, and I know _about_ you, Negan.” 

“Oh, and what it is it you know about me?” Another smile stretches his handsome features. I fight very hard not to get flustered, _I_ want to be the one doing the flustering. 

“Nothing good.” I say, with a tone that tells him that I don’t really mind that. “Some folk around here just _hate_ you.” 

He raises an eyebrow, unfazed.

“And what about you?” He has to look down at me, being a good head taller. _Fuck me_ he is so fucking handsome I want to bite something. 

“I don’t know you yet.” I say, in that soft way that makes men look at my lips, just like he does. 

“Yet?” He looks pleasantly surprised. “Am I going to be invited on this porch again for a nice cold beer?” He raises the can to me. 

“If you’d like.” I say, and go to the bench to sit down, stretching out my bare legs comfortably. 

“Oh, I would like.” He says, still leaning on that post. “So what’s your name, anyway? Since you know so much about me.” 

“Arlene.” I say, and I can feel something in the way we’re speaking. We’ve skipped friendly and gone straight to flirting. 

“Arlene, suits you.” 

“I never liked it,” I tell him, “a little bit too country.” 

Negan chuckles and comes over to sit down beside me, legs apart and beer hanging loosely in his hands between his knees. I watch a bead of sweat run down the back of his tan neck and into is shirt collar. I must be hormonal or something, because I am noticing every little thing about this man. 

I’d seen him around plenty, been told to keep my distance, to ignore him if he throws any jokes my way, but I don’t ever react well to being told what to do. 

I cling to things that remind me of the time before wherever I can, and already he feels like one of those things. In my mind’s eye, I can see myself in my mid-twenties, going to a dive bar and picking up someone a little older, a little rough around the edges, drinking straight whiskey and eyeing me in the summer dress I’d pick to catch the attention of a man like that. 

It seems like such a long time ago now, it _is_ such a long time ago, but as I sit on this bench with this man that’s making my cheeks flush because he’s hot and strong and dangerous under that easy manner, I can at least pretend for a second to be who I used to be. The shorts and the tank top I wear reveal the same parts of my skin, even if they don’t float in the way those dresses did, and even though I miss some of the weight _I’ve_ lost, and makeup, and expensive skincare, I know I look plenty good enough to draw him in. 

So, I guess I’ve decided I want to draw him in. 

“Arlene, Arlene, Arlene, Arlene, I’m beggin’ of ya…” He murmurs under his breath to the tune of ‘Jolene,’ and I laugh. It makes it worse that he’s a little funny. 

We sit quietly for a minute and enjoy our drinks, both obviously exhausted after a day full of work. 

“So, what do you do around here, Arlene?” Negan leans backward and drapes his arm comfortably over the back of the bench, behind me, in a way that is probably a bit too companionable for two people who have just met. 

“Anything that needs doing, same as everyone.” 

“No, I mean in your free-time.” He prompts, a playful look in his eye, knowing full well that free-time nowadays is for sleeping, eating and maybe bathing, if you’re lucky. 

“Oh, go to the bars, see whatever new play is in town, attend gallery openings.” 

“La-dee-da,” he grins, “you had me at goin’ to the bars, but lost me at the gallery opening part.” 

“So you weren’t an art guy then, back in the day?” I find myself relaxing quickly.

“Not particularly, although I can see it in you. Fancy restaurants and fancy friends, fancy hobbies…” 

He’s wrong, but I’m glad I give off _that_ as a first impression.

“What seems fancy about me?” I ask, tucking my hair behind my ears. Negan considers me for a moment, looking over my face and down to my boots in assessment; it makes my pulse pick up a bit in my neck. 

“Just something you give off, I guess. Shape of your nose or your lips, maybe, fact that you smell nice in this swampy little bit of the country.” I can _feel_ his voice as much as I can hear it, rumbling through me. 

This is going to escalate, I can tell, and that’s fine by me, it’s actually exactly what I was going for. It’s been a long time since I picked someone up, since I actually took the time to chat and to build up the allure like this. All the sex I’ve had since the apocalypse has been quick, convenient, and usually never talked about again.

This isn’t that, it feels good, already, it makes me feel like an actual person. 

“I smell nice?” I say skeptically. Thank god my voice comes out fine. 

Negan leans a bit closer to me, and I see the tip of his tongue wet his lower lip. “Real nice.” He says.

I open my mouth to say something flirty in response, but we are interrupted by the heavy footsteps thudding up the pathway, and then Daryl is at the foot of my porch, looking over the railing at us with a frown. 

“You good, Arlene?” He asks me, eyes on Negan.

“I’m good.” I say with a pleasant smile. I know full well that Daryl has serious history with Negan, and certainly is not about to be charmed out of his disdain for him. 

“Whatchu doin’?” He asks Negan, gruffly, accusatorially. 

Negan holds his hands up in defence, as if to prove he isn’t holding me there against my will or pressing a poison apple into my hand. 

“Arlene invited me up for a drink, I’m sure you’re welcome to join.” He says smoothly, subtly putting a bit of distance between us on the bench. 

“And where’d you get the idea it’s okay for you to be drinkin’ with anyone?” Daryl looks like there’s nothing he’d love to do more that hit Negan square in the jaw.

“Daryl, c’mon, he’s not a prisoner anymore, is he? He’s been working all day same as us, and he’s not lying, I _did_ invite him to join me.” As a show of good will, as much as I’d really rather he fuck off for now, I gesture to what’s left of the beers. “You want one?” 

Daryl considers me for a moment, looking annoyed and maybe disappointed. We usually get along, me and him, but we certainly do not know each other well enough for him to be judging me like I can tell he is. 

“Nah, don’t drink with people like him.” He says, and I see Negan look off somewhere else as if fighting off a scoff or a comeback. “You be careful.” 

Feeling a bit patronised, my soft tone evaporates somewhat. “I’m a big girl.” I tell him firmly, and he meets my eyes for a moment before walking off. 

“Phew, it get about ten degrees colder out here?” Negan looks at me, that smile still present on his lips but a bit of the fun gone from his eyes. “Speakin’ of folks who fucking hate me…” 

“He’s surly, guess it’s part of his appeal.” I joke, and he lets out another one of those gruff laughs, before tossing back the last of his beer and squashing the can in his hand.

“I’d better get out of your hair.” He says and gets up. I wish he wouldn’t. 

“Oh? Daryl hasn’t scared you off, has he?” I say, sensing that a bit of a challenge might work for him. Negan stops. “He’s not in charge of me, you know?”

When Negan turns around he has his tongue between his teeth and an amused look on his face.

“That is true.” He says, hands on his hips. “But he ain’t the only one who’s gonna try to come over and chase me off if they see you drinking up here with me.”

“Well then,” I stand up as well and pick up the remainder of the six pack, “you should come inside before the torches and pitchforks come out.” 

I don’t wait to see if he’s following when I step inside, because I know he will be, (my ass looks great in these shorts), I leave the door open behind me and as I set the cans down on the kitchen island, the door clicks shut and he mosies in. 

“Mind if I ask you what you’re up to?” He asks, narrowing his eyes a bit at me, looking intrigued. 

In the privacy of my house, filled with all the personal touches of my roommates and I, the air changes around us. He’s in my little domain now, away from prying eyes, and people don’t just invite strangers into their personal space for no reason. Before, I would have had candles lit, I would have put on a record and snuck to the bathroom to spritz extra perfume behind my ears. Those things aren’t an option anymore - the living room and kitchen are mostly filled with mismatched, scavenged trinkets and our hand-washed clothes hanging to dry.

I rest a hand on the kitchen island, remembering that he asked me a question. 

“Having another beer.” I say, all innocence, and crack the can open. “I was going to try and ration them off for myself but I just can’t resist.” 

“I’m pretty sure you know that isn’t what I meant, sweetheart.” He says, and I like the way that sounds. Sweetheart. 

I walk round the island to stand in front of him, and I resist the urge to grab him and pull him down for a kiss right now. 

“Do _you_ want another?” I ask, looking up at him. 

“I’m good.” He says with a shake of his head. Negan is looking at my lips again. “You gonna answer my actual question?”

I just step around him, and he follows me into the living room closely, and when I sit on the couch, so does he. We sit close. 

“What do you think I’m up to?” I ask with a smile, aware of how annoying it is for me to dodge like that. 

“I don’t know, you’re hard to read.” He says. I get comfortable, drawing one knee up and turning my body to face him, beer on the coffee table. “Don’t know you well enough to see your tells, yet.”

“Well we should get to know each other then, shouldn’t we?” I say. “I’ve got something I really want to ask you about… but it might be too personal.” 

“There’s nothin’ too personal for me, doll, I’m an open fuckin’ book.” 

With his permission, I wet my lips before asking the question, because it is something I’ve thought about since I heard the rumour. I feel the need to figure him out, if it’s possible to do so. 

“Is it true that you had yourself a little harem of wives back at Sanctuary? I’ve heard it mentioned but it always sounded like a myth to me.” I ask, keeping my tone light. 

“No, that part is true.” He says with a little laugh. “Although ‘harem’ makes it sound like there were more of them than there were. I’m not a greedy man.” 

“Hmm.” I respond, eyebrows raised, and I see his Adams apple bob like he isn’t sure how I’ll feel about that, if I’ll feel suddenly disgusted and kick him out, remembering who Negan actually is. That’s not why I’m asking though; I don’t really have an interest in getting a full accounting of what a bastard he had been before. I have an interest in fucking him, and I want to know exactly what kind of a lay he’s going to be before I do.

“That’s got to be hard right? Going from having this whole breakfast buffet of pussy to not being allowed to even touch anyone in… however long.” I watch his face closely, even ready for him to get a little mad at me. He doesn’t look mad though, my choice of words has put a spark in his eye. 

“It does fuckin’ suck.” He says, and we’re talking quietly and close, my skin tingles. “Although that kind of polygamist fuckery isn’t really what I’d go for anymore.”

“Oh, not now that you’re a changed man?”

“Exactly.” He says, smiling. “Shit, you said it, not even been allowed to be _touched_ in however long, don’t think I got the stamina for more than one woman anymore.” 

“Poor thing.” I say with faux sympathy. “Person could go crazy without a little contact.” 

“That they could…” He says, and I see the sincerity there. So I reach over and rest my palm on his cheek, feeling his beard against my skin. His eyes slip shut and he lets out a deep breath that shakes a bit. 

“Does that feel good?” I ask, and I’m not making fun now, not when his features soften and he keens into my touch. 

“Hmm.” He hums, and I run my fingertips over the shell of his ear and watch him hold back a shudder. “You tryin’ to make me purr like a little kitten?”

He opens his eyes and grins at me, and I let my hand run down to the side of his neck and rest there. Negan looks a little bit dazed and his eyes scan my face like he’s trying to figure me out. He’s not going to manage it, I’ve gotten through 30 years without being able to figure _myself_ out. 

All I know is what I want. What I’ve wanted most of the time for the last few years is to survive, and sometimes some Chinese food, and what I want right now is him, absolutely desperate for me. 

“You almost _are_ purring like a little kitten.” I say, feeling his pulse under my palm. 

“What are you up to?” He asks me, glancing down at my lips, again. 

Instead of answering, I throw a leg over him to climb into his lap and rest my hands on his shoulders. Negan makes a small noise of surprise in his throat, too surprised to even touch me in return yet, hands raised. One of my hands finds the back of his hair and I thread my fingers into it. 

“Sorry to harp on the past, but I can’t help being curious about big, bad Negan…” I say, holding his head and hovering my lips above his. “Did you used to ask people to get on their knees for you?”

Negan looks at me in a hungry way that makes me pulse between the legs and feel the urge to grind myself against him. I don’t though, not yet.

“I did.” He says. _Fuck_ , his voice.

“Did it make you feel powerful?” I whisper, and tug on his hair just enough to pull his head back and expose his throat to me. His hands come to rest on my thighs and he rubs the skin with his thumbs. 

“It did.” 

He’s getting hard already, I can feel it pressing against me. I wonder how quick he’ll go off when I touch his cock? I wonder how long it’s been since he had a woman touch him?

“How do you feel now?” I ask, tightening my grip in his hair. His eyes are half-lidded and he looks at me like he’s thinking nothing but filth. He doesn’t strike me as the submissive type, he strikes me as the type who’s usually doing the hair grabbing. 

I can see that, him turning me over and pressing my face into the couch cushions, fucking me from behind and making me whine. Maybe another day, but it’s not what I’m in the mood for right now. 

Men who can _only_ be that way have never done it for me, I need a bit of diversity in the way I get to fuck someone, I need to no they’re secure enough to let me do the driving every once in a while. 

“Like you are steadily wrappin’ me around your little finger.” He answers my question, his hands run up and down my thighs, just feeling my skin. “Because you are somethin’ fucking else, aren’t you?” 

“Am I?” I lower my head to his neck and nuzzle his beard with my nose, pressing tight against him, letting him feel a woman’s body again. 

“Only met you five fuckin’ minutes ago and you got me just….”He doesn’t finish how exactly I’ve got him, just makes a little noise in his throat, deep but helpless, that makes me smile against his skin. 

I sit my head up and just touch my lips to his gently, my tongue comes out and I trace the tip of it over his lips, feeling his hot, shaky breath. 

“Shit, baby, let me kiss you.” His hands have found my ass, and he holds me tight on him. He’s very hard now, from my teasing. It makes me feel good, like I’ve still got it, so I kiss him deep and swallow his pleased hum when I do. 

Our lips lock and unlock, I let go of his hair to grip his shoulders again and enjoy making out on my couch like teenagers for a while. We kiss each other breathless, fingers grasping and hips gradually starting to grind together until he’s hard as a rock and I’m sure my underwear is soaked. 

I pull back to work on the buttons of his shirt, my breath coming out shaky, and he tugs down the front of my tank top, slipping the string sleeves off my arms but apparently in too much of a rush to take off the whole thing. As soon as my breasts are exposed in the bra, he buries his face between them and kisses the skin there wetly. Shit, I am going to have such a rash.

“I fuckin’ missed tits.” He says, and I have to laugh, which he does too, watching me with a hungry but playful look as I reach behind me to unclip my bra and take it off, tossing it somewhere. “Fuck.” 

Negan looks me up and down for a moment, chest rising and falling heavy. 

“Where did you come from?” He asks, and I hide my smile by kissing him again, running my hands up his now bare stomach and chest to feel the hair there and to lightly scrape his skin with my nails. Negan fondles my breasts, teases his thumbs over my nipples, just enjoys touching me for a little while. 

“Look at you…” I say and stand up between his legs, relishing the way he reaches for me when I’m off his lap. I unfasten the button on my shorts and pull down the zip. “All daffy at the sight of a pair of tits. It _must’ve_ been a while.” 

“In my defence,” he palms himself through his jeans, the look on his face is like it’s almost painful, “those are some fucking spectacular ones.” 

“Hmm.” I hum, and pull down my shorts and underwear, letting them drop to the ground before I step out of them, slipping off my top as well. He swears again, and I bite my lip, reminding myself that I’m trying to take my time a little, much as I might want to flip the script and just let him do whatever the fuck he wants with me for the next few hours. 

It’s too good to ruin, him sitting on the couch looking at me just dazed and buzzing with anticipation, while I’m naked in my living room like none of the awful, terrifying shit in the world is even happening. 

I watch him, and dip my fingers into my pussy, just over my clit enough to make me let out a breathy moan. Negan groans and squeezes his cock through his jeans. 

“Don’t tease me, baby.” He says, shuffling in his seat like he can’t sit still.“I know you want to come and sit on daddy’s cock.” 

His excitement seems to have his mouth running away with him, thinking that what has worked with girls in the past is going to work for me. I step a bit closer to him, but not close enough for him to touch me, and he makes no secret of staring at me from top to bottom. 

“I don’t have a daddy.” I say, and bend forwards to unfasten his belt and his jeans. “And I’m not looking for one either.” 

“Okay.” Is all he says, seeming more focussed on my hands than on anything else. 

“You know what I’m looking for?” I murmur, getting him to lift his hips so I can tug his underwear and jeans down enough to free his cock, which sits hard against his stomach, pink and wet at the tip. There’s no wonder he walks around like he has a big dick, because he does. “Huh?” I prompt when he doesn’t answer.

“What?” He sounds out of breath, looks disappointed when I stand up straight and don’t touch him. 

“I want you to ask me nicely to come and sit on your cock.” I say, pulsing at just the sight of his dick and how good he looks with his shirt open like that. 

“Fuck…” He groans and wheezes out a bit of a laugh, pumping himself in hand a couple of times. “You look too sweet to get off on torturing me.” 

“You look like you’re enjoying it.” I say and climb into this lap again, hands on his wrists to keep him from touching me again. “And saying please is torture to you? Wow, that’s telling.” 

He tests my grip on his wrists, and although I am sure he could very easily grab me if he wanted to, he’s enjoying this little game and lets me keep him pinned. When we’re face to face again, I kiss him, and am arrested by the intensity that he looks at me when I pull back. My heart races, I haven’t felt like this for such a long time. 

“Please,” he says, breath ghosting across my lips, “please fuck me, baby, you’re gonna kill me here.” Negan takes his wrists out of my hold, as easily as I thought he would, and puts his hands on the sides of my face to pull me down for a deep kiss. “I’ll do anything you fucking want.” 

Shuddering, I reach between us to take his cock in my hand and press the tip against me, before carefully sinking down and having him steadily fill me.

“Oh…” I let out a long moan, eyes squeezing shut. It’s made easier for how wet I am, but it’s still a stretch and it still hurts a little bit. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He groans out, hands finding my hips and guiding me gently. “Shit, that pussy feels good.” 

I can’t say anything in response, too overwhelmed by the feeling of being so completely filled and the delightful sound of his voice going through me. I raise and lower myself, getting used to the feeling of him, my hands on his shoulders while I build up a good grind. 

The sting goes away, and it just feels good, too good, his hands run all over me, squeezing my ass, over my stomach, my tits, reaching up to run his thumb over my lip and put it in my mouth. 

“Fuckin’ gorgeous.” He grunts, and I make some incoherent noise in response, riding his cock quick and desperate, aware, somewhere in the back of my mind, that it is possible that someone could come into the house for some reason or another. 

I’m being a little too loud, given that the windows are open because of the heat, but so is he, grunting and groaning, saying filthy words of encouragement. 

If I close my eyes, I can see my apartment, I can imagine I’ve just met Negan in a bar, and we’ve gotten a little tipsy, and now I’m riding him on my own couch, with my own music playing, and the flashing neon sign from the motel across the street making the place pulse with red and purple light. 

The fantasy is nice, but I want to look at him, and when I do, he’s watching me, eyes full of heat, mouth slightly open in pleasure. Shit, I’m feeling something, because he’s gorgeous, and his cock feels good, and I think I could actually _like_ him if we could get to know each other. 

“Oh my god, Negan.” I moan out, feeling it build up already. “I’m gonna-“

“Yeah, yeah, good.” He pushes a hand between us, the other holding the back of my neck to press my forehead against his. “Been holding off since you took your fuckin’ underwear off.”

A breathless half-laugh spills out of my mouth, and he works my clit with his fingers as a grind towards my orgasm. I know he’s the type of person that needs his woman to come before him, and he’s quick in his movements, eyes shut and murmuring _“c’mon, baby, c’mon, c’mon.”_

It builds low, quick, his cock hits the right spot, his fingers work me perfectly, and I squeeze his open shirt at his shoulders in my fists when I come, moaning and whimpering against his mouth, foreheads still pressed. I don’t stop grinding, even as my walls clench and unclench around him and my head gets cloudy from the peak of immense pleasure. 

“Fuck, yeah.” He groans aloud, and wraps his arms around my waist when he comes himself, hips canting upward into me, burying his head against my neck as he swears and grunts into my skin. It goes on for a long time, I feel him spilling inside of me, I shouldn’t want him to but I really do. “Ahh, shit.” 

When he’s finally completely spent, his muscles relax like a snapped elastic band, and he falls back against the couch, bringing me with him with looser arms around my waist. We both breathe heavily, panting, allowing our mutual twitching to die off before I raise my hips to let him slip out of me and sit back on his thighs. 

Negan finally opens his eyes to look at me, and I bite my lip and run a hand through my hair, feeling the sweat on my skin start to cool in the air. 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a fuckin’ dirty dream come true?” 

I smile, heart still thudding in my chest and cheeks flushed, and stand up to pull my shorts back on and find where my tank top went. He watches me, pulling his pants up and fastening them, belt open. He looks drained, like he can’t be bothered to move - I like that.

“That’s a new one on me.” I say pulling my tank top back on, not bothering with the bra. “Would you like a glass of water?”

“Uh, yeah.” He says. I go into the kitchen and let the faucet run a little before pouring him a glass, he follows me in, shirt and belt still open, hair a little loose now. We really are going to have to do that again, I’m still thrumming between the legs and probably will be for a while. 

“Here.” I hand him the glass, and he takes it and downs it in one, setting it down on the island. 

“So uh, since you’re such a curious cat, it alright if I ask you a question now?” He asks, leaning on an elbow on the counter. 

“Sure.” I say and collect his glass along with a few dishes left behind from this morning. My muscles feel warm and relaxed, I feel like I’ve been screwed right for the first time in a long time. I enjoy the way he watches me while I go about my business, washing dishes and putting them in the drying rack. 

“What was all _that_ about?” He asks, and I bite back a chuckle, I guess I can’t blame him for asking. 

“Having an orgasm.” I say simply, rinsing a glass. 

“And an excellent orgasm it was but, I mean _all_ that. Asking me that stuff about the past, making me say _please_?” He says. “I mean, I just met you.” 

I look up and consider him for a moment, that smile on his lips but that look in his eye. Still trying to figure me out. 

“Didn’t you like it?” I ask. “Seemed like you did.” 

“Oh, I liked it, never thought I would, having a woman be all in charge like that, but shit… Haven’t come like that for a long ass time.” 

“Then why ask questions?” I raise an eyebrow. “I liked it, you liked it, I got off, you got off.” 

He’s quiet for a moment, but I can feel just how much he wants to question it, so I take pity on him, and dry my hands off on a tea towel before approaching him. 

“I’ve seen you around a lot, and I think you’re hot.” I say, and he smirks a bit. “And, yeah, part of your allure is your reputation, being all big and scary. But what I like, is to make big scary men say _please,_ to get them all hard and caught up and desperate, like you just were on my couch.” 

The tip of his tongue is between his lips as he looks down at me. 

“And, in your specific case, Negan, I kind of get the impression that you needed that. To drain your balls sure, but also needed to have someone take control, show you how fun it can be to humble yourself.”

“Humble myself?” He murmurs, that ever present smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“Mhmm.” I wonder if he knows he’s leaning towards me, making me have to tilt my chin up to meet his eye. “Just a little bit.” 

“You know what?” He says, and places a hand gently on my cheek. 

“What?” I smirk a bit myself. 

“I don’t give a fuck what I have to say or do, if you want me to humble myself a little or a lot, if you wanna tie me up, pull my fuckin’ hair, spit in my mouth… just as long as you tell me that is _not_ the last time I’m gonna get to be inside that perfect pussy, you gorgeous, weird ass woman.”

I let out a breathless laugh and shudder at his words and the images that run through my head at them. I shake my head, no, it will not be the last time, and he leans down and kisses me, pulling me into his arms and up against his body. I wrap my arms round his neck comfortably and enjoy the warmth of him.

“I’m not selfish, Negan, next time it’ll be your turn to be in the driver’s seat.” 

He clicks his tongue, considering that for a moment with a pleased look on his face. “I like the sound of that, Arlene.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment if you liked this, I love to hear people's reactions.


End file.
